


Migration Patterns

by engine



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Canon, post raven cycle but pre CDTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: Adam graduates; Ronan dreams for him.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Migration Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> i was rereading the books while working on a longer fic for them, and had an idea for a missing scene that i felt should've existed in the epilogue. literally a day later i read CDTH for the first time and was half vindicated!!! this isn't really canon divergence, but i fudged the timeline on a relationship thing to write the missing scene as i'd first imagined it. i hope you enjoy!

Despite what he’d told his mother, driving away from the trailer felt, finally, like an ending.

Electronica hummed low through the speakers; the BMW drove smooth across the dirt, and then across the broken pavement of the streets; even without Cabeswater, Adam felt the ley line’s power beating in time with the music through the undercarriage, through the soles of his shoes. 

All these months later, something of it still reached out to him. Ronan had told him that he hadn’t created Cabeswater, just _manifested_ it, given shape to this place of power, and when the magic still thrummed inside him like this, Adam found that easier to believe. Despite no longer having that direct connection, no way to tap into its power, magic had left a permanent mark on him. Adam didn’t think he’d ever be quite as human as he once had been.

Driving back to Singer’s Falls took longer than leaving it. Traffic had picked up a bit, as much as it ever did in Henrietta, and he spent a solid five minutes behind an old lady in a golden Camry going five miles under the speed limit. Finally, though, he made it back to the Barns, parking the BMW beneath the plum tree, the sun fully set behind the mountains. Fireflies—half real and half imagined—twinkled around the porch and out in the fields. This place had never seemed so much a dream as it did in summer.

The house was empty when Adam let himself in, evidence of Ronan and Opal’s day strewn about, both haphazard and predictable. Dreamed toys; an old hoodie; some dried flowers; a strangely unreal tree that required no water to survive tucked into a corner. Half of Adam’s belongings were here too, mixed in amongst the clutter, having migrated over from his apartment. He thought he might spend the whole summer here. He’d once felt like the Barns was the kind of home he’d like to have one day. Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, he’d gotten that wish.

Across the house, the back door creaked open, followed by the muffled sound of Ronan’s voice, boots hitting the floor, Opal’s hooves on wood. 

“Adam?” Ronan called a moment later, before appearing in the doorway, Chainsaw perched on his shoulder. Opal clattered in after him, pushing past to give Adam a hug before bouncing away towards the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Adam said, smiling a little, then smiling more when Ronan walked over to slide a hand around his waist. Casual affection hadn’t come easily to either of them, Adam never having had it and Ronan out of practice, but now Adam wasn’t sure how he’d lived without it. “I wondered where you were.”

“On the roof. Dreaming.” Ronan looked like he wanted to ask how the visit had gone, but he didn’t say anything. Adam appreciated that. He’d tell Ronan about it later, probably, when it was dark and quiet. Instead, Ronan leaned in and pressed a kiss against Adam’s jaw. Chainsaw squawked her displeasure at the sudden shifting of balance before launching off to go bother Opal instead.

“Should’ve guessed,” Adam said, the last remaining tension falling away, replaced with happiness, contentedness. In Ronan’s arms was a good place to be. “Dream anything good?”

Ronan smiled, sharp and dangerous, and Adam’s stomach swooped. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

Adam couldn’t help himself—didn’t have to, really—and tugged Ronan down for a real kiss, slow and careful. Ronan’s hand pressed against his lower back, the other coming up to cup the back of his head, tilting Adam at just the right angle to take the kiss from _good_ to _perfect_. A promise for later. Adam’s fingers curled in the fabric of Ronan’s shirt, and a shiver shot up his spine.

Something crashed in the kitchen, a sure sign of trouble, and Ronan pulled back with an annoyed expression on his face. “Jesus Mary,” he grumbled, glancing in the direction of the noise but not worried enough to let Adam go. Adam grinned, amused, lowering his forehead to rest on Ronan’s shoulder. “Ugh, whatever. Come on, I have something for you.”

He finally dropped his hold on Adam, only to take his hand and lead him up the stairs, deeper into the house. Opal and Chainsaw made strange bird noises at each other in the kitchen, but they could deal with that mess later.

As always, they ended up in Ronan’s room, cluttered with dreams, old and new alike. There was a glowing river rock on his dresser that Adam hadn’t remembered seeing before; it reminded him of Cabeswater, it’s glow pulsing in time with the ley line. A dream and also a memory. It made his heart ache a bit, but in a bittersweet way. He thought this was maybe how other people felt when they’d had a good childhood, in a nice home, and then had to leave it. 

Ronan dropped Adam’s hand to dig around in his closet, even more of a mess than the rest of the space. Adam sat on the bed—a larger one than it had been six months ago, when Ronan had first kissed him—and waited, letting himself enjoy this place, this moment, as Ronan banged around. Who knew what he’d stored away over all these years?

“Don’t die in there,” Adam said, teasing. 

“Shut up—ow! Fuck,” Ronan cursed, as something fell and hit him on the head before crashing to the floor. It was a soccer ball, except tiny, and when it hit the ground strange LED lights flashed in random patterns. Adam had no idea if it was real or dreamed. “ _Finally_.”

Now, Ronan emerged with a small box, black, of course, rubbing the spot on his forehead the toy had smacked. Adam snickered, but tugged Ronan’s hand away when he sat down, so Adam could brush his own hand against the spot. 

“Careful,” Adam said, belatedly. “Maybe you should clean some of this up, huh? Especially if I’m gonna stay over.”

“You can handle it for a night, Parrish,” Ronan said, though his cautious expression seemed to suggest he knew what Adam really meant, what he hoped Adam really meant. _Stay over_ , yeah, but longer than a night. Eventually he’d have to leave for college, but two months—two months together. That sounded pretty nice. “Here. Graduation present.”

He held out the box. 

“What? Ronan,” Adam said, because he knew that for as much as Adam had cared about graduating, Ronan _didn’t_ care, the exact same inverse amount. He hadn’t fully understood that even with this magic in Adam’s blood, he still wanted a life—a life that included Ronan, yeah, obviously. But. This was why Adam had let his disappointment go when Ronan couldn’t bring himself to return to Aglionby for the ceremony; it was also why he’d expected their celebration of the occasion to include way fewer physical gifts. Well, maybe not fewer: just… different kinds.

“I dreamed it, don’t freak out about money or something.” Ronan had, for once, predicted the wrong thing that Adam was worried about. Adam always assumed that anything Ronan had was dreamed, at this point. “Just open it.”

Adam opened the box. 

It was a watch. Adam wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. It was silver faced, slim, with a clean metal band instead of a leather one. The numbers stood on a black face in sharp Roman numerals, but another set of numbers, implausibly floating on the face just next to the number eight, displayed the time again: 16:43. Military time. The current time.

It was a very nice watch. It reminded Adam of himself—slim, clean—but also of Ronan—dark, sleek, a little dangerous. A little unreal.

“That shows the time wherever I am,” Ronan said, voice soft. “So even if you go somewhere farther away, or I have to—I dunno. You’ll know.”

“Ronan,” Adam said again. He didn’t know what else to say. There were a lot of things he wanted to say.

“You didn’t replace the watch Opal chewed up,” Ronan continued, “so I figured this would be useful.”

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam said, for a third time, and finally Ronan stopped talking and looked up from the watch. He looked at Adam the same way he had six months ago, a year ago, from the day they’d first talked. The look that Adam hadn’t known what to do with until suddenly he _had_ known, could barely believe he’d ever been confused before, suddenly stuck not knowing what to do without Ronan’s hands on his body, Ronan’s lips on his lips. 

He didn’t know what his own face looked like, but something in it seemed to strike a match in Ronan, because now Ronan was looking at him with intent, with single-minded focus, like Adam was a car race he knew, he _knew_ he was going to win. Adam liked that expression on Ronan quite a bit. 

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Ronan said, still soft, the words sounding strangely familiar, like Adam had heard them before, or dreamt them, maybe. “Just to come back.”

Adam was fairly sure what Ronan meant was: _I love you._

“Always,” Adam gasped against Ronan’s mouth, arms thrown around Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s hands were already under his shirt, his farm calluses pressed against Adam’s skin. Ronan kissed him with precision, a clear goal in mind. Adam briefly wondered if they’d remembered to close the door, and then promptly stopped caring as Ronan tipped him back onto the bed. 

Something crashed again downstairs; they pulled away from each other just enough to breathe. Ronan, pressed close and clearly very interested in continuing what he was doing, cursed creatively. 

“Go. I’ll be here,” Adam said, removing his own hands from where they’d started tugging off Ronan’s shirt. It was, he thought grimly, one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. 

“I’m gonna kill them,” Ronan said as he slowly dragged himself up and back to his feet. “ _Don’t_ move,” he added, pointing at Adam, who just smiled slowly and stretched a little. Ronan looked physically pained. 

“Like I said.” Adam paused for appropriate dramatic effect, and because he liked the way Ronan’s eyes seemed stuck on him. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
